Furlough 68: Gold

For the first time in a long time, I really had a creative, fun day writing.

Now, before, I’d be creative and fun in other ways; and in the future, I will continue to have them. Hard work, I believe is what it’s called. Challenging yourself. Trying to make the puzzle pieces fit. Crafting, shaping, editing.

But today was really creative and fun, and this was because of two things—1, I took the pressure off of me to make this book into a THING that I did not conceive completely in love. What was it conceived of? Ego, intelligence, and the bits a pieces of everyone else’s stuff. I’ll be able to use some parts I have for my book, but they will not be welded to other parts to make a part, blah blah blah, like I have before.

And 2, I listened to myself. I didn’t go running for a book by some expert, I didn’t immerse myself in music and I didn’t chant Om to try and center myself. I didn’t run away from myself; I sat down and listened to myself. I did by doodling and daydreaming. I scribbled and came up with the weirdest, coolest ideas. Twists of words, turns of phrases. I absolutely loved it.

This is still very much the nebulous malleable part of my book, and so what a better time to daydream! May we as human beings never, ever quit daydreaming!

For the first time in a very long time I am creating solely for me, and loving what I create. That’ll be my mantra for the rest of my creative life. And why would you as a reader want anything less? Slowly and gently, I am learning to trust the storyteller in me, whispering to me. Which is just the whisper of the universe, who will guide me and aid me. Every story’s hero needs, from outside and in.

It’s so much like what I’ve been learning about in dealing with my negative voices and limiting beliefs. There, when stuck, you take a moment and find your breath, reminding yourself that you are not these voices, that you are nothing essentially. I am not a writer, I am not a human or a man or a son or anything. These are human fixtures we use to put ourselves in boxes.

Without getting too philosophical here (too late!) the point is this—when I took the headphones out of my ears, when I put away the books, when I put away my own rough drafts and words, and sat with myself and let my mind wander—when I ceased trying and instead maneuvered to just be—that’s when things began to come to life. My inner kid woke up, rubbed his eyes, and asked, “Is it time to play?” Of course it is!

I have just begun. It’s very much like a muscle—the more I’ll use it, the stronger it’ll get. The more I trust this voice—the voice of creativity—the more it will help me.

Again it won’t be like this every day for the rest of my life. The universe is on her own schedule. But then it’s not supposed to be that way, is it? What is the value of faith if you weren’t challenged?

I am banking on myself, minting the gold that I’ve dug from my own mines.

I can do this. I don’t just know it, I can see it, I can feel it. This is what I was meant to do. And I am so happy about this.